


Fake It Til You Make It

by Mr_Pinniped



Series: Ducktales Pre-Canon Events [2]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Autistic Mark Beaks, College, Developing Friendships, Eventual betrayal, Friends-to-Lovers-to-Enemies, Gay Gyro Gearloose, Gay Mark Beaks, Getting to Know Each Other, Gyro has Anxiety, Homophobic Parent(s), M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Pre-Canon, Slow Burn, The origin of Waddle, Trans Gyro Gearloose, University, fluff with an angsty ending, hurt/comfort elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27235987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Pinniped/pseuds/Mr_Pinniped
Summary: Mark Beaks has just started college, and is enjoying finally being away out from the control of his parents.  Gyro Gearloose is trying to finish his doctorate and find a new start after nearly burning down Tokyolk.This is what happens when they meet.
Relationships: Mark Beaks/Gyro Gearloose
Series: Ducktales Pre-Canon Events [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2028373
Comments: 14
Kudos: 27





	1. Chess

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes, you're writing a totally different fic, and you ask yourself, "hey, wouldn't it add drama if these two characters dated when they were in college, and it ended badly?" And then you have to pause and write that whole backstory. Enjoy!

“Ok, Mark. You can do this. Just fake it til you make it.” Mark Beaks pulled his old, comfortable Major Courage sweatshirt a bit more tightly around himself as he looked around the busy courtyard. He’d just finished new student orientation. That was easy. Sit down in an auditorium, watch some college deans speak, pick up some pieces of paper. Now, he was expected to just “mingle.” He’d never been good at that.

Maybe he should start with food? There was a decent spread here- little sandwiches, some raw veggies, a cheese tray, and an array of cookies which he ignored- he’d never had much of a sweet tooth. He filled a plate and looked around. He really should go up and talk to someone. “Just be like Mom…” he muttered to himself, nibbling on a radish. There were several small knots of people standing around. Why were they all already talking to each other? How was he supposed to just go up and join them? What if he just annoyed them? What was he supposed to talk _about,_ anyway _?_ He’d rehearsed several conversation starters with his mother before he’d left home, but now his mind was woefully blank. He glanced at the drinks table. There was no alcohol here, of course, though he wished there was. He had been fifteen years old the first time he snuck a glass of wine at one of his mom’s parties. It never helped him know what to say to people, Mom always still criticized him for being rude no matter what he did, but nevertheless, a drink or two always seemed to to take away some of the stress induced by standing in the middle of a chattering crowd. But that option wasn’t available for an official, school-sponsored orientation. He sighed, and grabbed a bottle of sparkling water anyway. 

How did all these people walk around with a plate of appetizers in one hand and a drink in the other? Maybe he should just sit down somewhere before he spilled something, and made an embarrassment of himself. A lot of the tables were full already, but he spotted one that was empty in the corner of the courtyard. Maybe someone else would come and start a conversation with _him._

He didn’t notice someone else approaching the same table from the other side of the courtyard until they both set their plates down at the exact same moment. He looked up at a tall, gangly, bespectacled chicken, who seemed just as surprised by the fortuitous timing as he was.

* * *

“Vell, Mr. Gearloose, I’m delighted to have you joining my lab, and I do think we can have your doctorate finished in a year or two at most. Your research has a very solid foundation already, despite your setbacks, and I’m happy to coach you through the writing of your dissertation.” Dr. Ludwig von Drake smiled at the young man in front of him, who was still perched nervously on the edge of one of the plush leather chairs Ludwig kept in his office. 

“Thank you, Dr. von Drake. It really means a lot after… well after everything.”

Ludwig raised a hand dismissively. “Ve all make mistakes, Gyro!” 

Gyro raised his eyebrows, disbelieving. Nearly burning down a major city was hardly a simple mistake. But he’d read of von Drake’s work, and the man was a great scientist, if somewhat eccentric. In any case, Gyro couldn’t really afford to be choosy- Dr. von Drake was the only one out of the dozens of potential advisors he’d contacted who was willing to take him on.

Ludwig glanced up at the clock. “Ah! It’s nearly five! The new School of Engineering undergraduates should be headed to the Welcome reception momentarily- you are of course more than welcome to join us- most of the rest of the faculty should be there, and maybe some of your fellow doctoral students as well.” 

Gyro wasn’t sure he felt like socializing, but he remembered that he hadn’t been grocery shopping yet, and a Welcome Reception was likely to have free food. He followed Dr. von Drake down the stairs and out to the courtyard. There were a lot of people milling about, and yes, a table with a decent spread of snacks. He piled some cheese, veggies, and two cookies onto his plate, and then headed to an empty table in the corner.

Someone else set a plate on the table at the exact same time he did. Gyro looked up. A gray parrot, wearing a blue Major Courage hoodie and a startled expression was standing there. 

“Sorry. Did you want to sit here?” the parrot asked.

“No! I mean, yes, I was sitting here, but you can sit here too! There’s six chairs and only two of us.” Gyro stammered. 

The parrot sat down. He had a towering pyramid of radishes on his plate, which he carefully set down with one hand. The other hand slipped into into the pocket of his sweatshirt, and Gyro could just glimpse his fingers flying, flashes of brightly-colored squares between them.

“Are you cubing?”

The parrot gave a startled jerk, but nodded and pulled the miniature Rubiks’ cube out of his pocket. “Not really.” he shrugged. “I did competitions when I was little, but now I just like having something to fidget with.” 

The parrot twirled it a few more times. “Oh. Right. I’m supposed to introduce myself. My name is Mark Beaks, it’s my first year here but I’m technically a sophomore, I’m going to major in Software Engineering, and I just moved here from Duckberg.” The words came out quickly, with a certain stiltedness to them, as if they had been rehearsed. 

“I’m Gyro Gearloose. I’m a Ph.D. student in Mechanical Engineering, and I just moved here as well.” 

Mark nodded, then looked down around, as if he was unsure what to say next. Gyro crammed another piece of cheese into his mouth. After a moment, Mark’s gaze landed on Gyro’s bag. 

“Cool pins.” Mark muttered, nibbling on another radish, looking closer at the various little colored discs attached to Gyro’s backpack. Gyro’s face brightened.

“They’re magnets, actually.” He unzipped the backpack flap and showed his companion how the decorations were attached by another magnet on the inside. “Neodymium alloy that I designed as a side project. They won’t get lost, see?” he pulled at one of the pins, and it held fast. “Unless I discharge the magnet with an ultraviolet beam.”

“That’s awesome!” Mark looked at Gyro in admiration. “Did you make that here? Wait. No.” His face fell. “You said you just moved here, like, two minutes ago. I’m sorry. I’m really bad at talking to people.” The parrot hunched in on himself a bit, and began twirling the Rubik’s cube faster, but continued peering at the assortment of pins attached to Gyro’s bag.

“Hey, why’s that one backwards?” He pointed to the little rainbow-striped badge, which was facing the inside pocket of Gyro’s bag, with the plain silver backing facing the outside world.

Gyro’s face turned red. “Oh. Um… that’s…I turned it around… it’s...” he stammered, hands automatically folding the fabric of the backpack over the rainbow pin.

The parrot seemed not to notice Gyro’s anxious behavior. “Oh are you gay? Me too! I wish I’d brought my other Rubik’s cube- it’s a novelty one with a different Pride flag on each side.” 

Gyro let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Mark was likely to understand, even if he’d lived in open-minded Duckberg his whole life. “I turned it around because I wasn’t sure how accepting people would be here. I’ve read there’s a pretty active queer community in Hamsterdam, but I’m not quite comfortable announcing it to the world just yet.”

Mark nodded. “Yeah, my dad’s really homophobic. I think it’s part of the reason Mom divorced him. That, and she really wanted to work on her career.” He paused, and shook his head rapidly, then drew his feet up onto the seat so that his legs were folded up against his chest. “Sorry.”

“What for?” Gyro wasn’t quite sure why the parrot kept apologizing to him.

“I do this thing, sometimes, where I’m trying to tell people a story to show that I can relate, but it comes out sounding like I’m just making it all about me. Mom says I have to work on that, if I want to make friends in college.” 

“Oh.”

Mark stared at his cube forlornly and didn’t speak. Gyro looked around the courtyard. Everyone else seemed to already be talking in groups. He couldn’t see where Dr. von Drake had gone, either. He weighed his options. Option one: He could sit here in silence. That seemed awkward. Two: He could go home. But he hadn’t finished his food yet, and he had a feeling that his dining companion might find it rude. Three, he could try to go socialize with another stranger; or four, he could try to continue the conversation with the awkward young man across from him. Neither of these last options seemed ideal. He hated small talk. But perhaps… he opened his bag again.

“Do you play chess?”

The parrot looked up at him, as Gyro pulled out a miniature chessboard from his bag. “I love chess!” A genuine grin spread across his face. “Did you know that when the game first originated, it was in India, and they used elephants instead of bishops?” 

“I- no, I didn’t.” Gyro grinned slyly. “Do you think that knowledge will help you win?” 

“Maybe not, but it’s very interesting. Did you know that--” Mark’s voice faltered. “Sorry. I’m supposed to work on not info-dumping on people.”

“By all means, go ahead,” Gyro said, setting the pieces on the board. He’d much prefer to hear this kid prattle on about the history of chess than ask him about where he’d gone to school before coming to Hamsterdam. Because once he mentioned Tokyolk, he’d have to mention 2-BO, and then…

No. This was his fresh start. No one knew him here. Several of the faculty would know Akita’s reputation, of course, but the other students? Gyro didn’t need to be treated like a potential supervillian. 

“Oooo, going for a Bishop’s Opening, are you? Modified Wing Gambit? Most famously used by the grandmaster at the 1993 World Championship? Very nice!” 

The parrot continued to prattle on as they played. The sky was dark and the rest of the engineering students had disappeared by the time the game ended in a stalemate. 

“Nice job,” said Gyro. “You really know this game.”

Mark grinned at him. “So do you! I haven’t played a game that challenging in quite some time.That was a very bold use of Egret’s Countergambit. You very nearly had me there, though luckily I noticed your knight. And I’ve never seen Merlin’s Trap used quite that effectively.” He stood up and stretched, then paused, tilting his head slightly. “Merlin’s Trap is very popular among Japanese players. Is that where you’re from?”

The question was innocent enough, but Gyro froze on the spot. He didn’t want to tell the truth, but he hated lying. His palms felt suddenly both cold and sweaty. He had to say something. 

“Yes. Well, no. Not _from_ there. I was born in Calisota. Small rural town, out in the boonies. But yes, I did live in Tokyolk for a while.” He gazed fixedly at the sky, hoping that his companion wouldn’t ask further questions.

Mark, oblivious to Gyro’s discomfort, went straight for the most logical continuation of the conversation. “Oh! You said you’re a PhD student, right? So is that where you did your undergrad?”

“Yes.” Gyro finally admitted. “I was studying at the University of Tokyolk last year, but then… I had to move here.”

Mark was giving him an odd, appraising look now. “I _thought_ you looked familiar! You’re _that_ guy, aren’t you? With the defense drone that went rogue?”

Gyro sighed and didn’t speak. It was just his luck that this kid kept up with the news. First possible friend in Hamsterdam, and he’d blown it. 

“That is so COOL!” Mark’s eyes were practically glowing now. 

“Listen, it wasn’t my fault that-- wait. Cool?”

“Yeah! I read about it! The fact that someone could make an AI so advanced that it just… turned evil, without any prompting? That’s amazing! What sort of matrices did you use in the code? How much RAM was needed? Was it probability-based, or…?” 

“I’m a _mechanical_ engineer. I didn’t actually do most of the software.”

“Oh, so you built the hardware? How did you balance the weight ratio of the CPU so that it could actually fly? What kind of fuel did it--”

“Look, I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Yeah, but how did it--”

“PLEASE!” Gyro snapped. He could feel his face going red. Mark stopped talking and curled his legs up to his chest, grasping the edge of the chair with his feet.

“Sorry.” he muttered. “I got over-excited again.” 

“Look, it’s getting late.” Gyro picked up his bag and stood, then turned back towards the parrot. “Are you staying in the dorms, or…?”

“Yeah. Goosewing Hall. On the west side of campus.” 

“I’ve got an apartment across the street from the library, so I’m headed the other way. But maybe I’ll see you around?” 

“Wait.” Mark paused and pulled a tiny notebook and a pencil out of his pocket. “Here’s my email address. In case you want to play again sometime?” 

* * *

They met for a chess game every week after that, and Mark refrained from asking any more questions about Tokyolk or 2-BO. At the beginning, more often than not, they ended up forcing the game to a stalemate. Gyro was the first to actually win, but by the time they were about to depart for the winter holidays, Mark had a five-win streak. “I’m sure you’ll get another win eventually, Gy.” They were in the campus diner, the board folded up in Gyro’s bag and a basket of fish and chips between them. 

“You’re getting to used to my strategies. I’ll have to find someone else to play with over break to refine my skills.”

“You’re not going home?”

“Not this year. Plane tickets are expensive, y’know? And Christmas with the family hasn’t really been the same since my Grandpap Ratchet died. So I’m going to stay here and take advantage of the quiet campus to really get some work done. What about you?”

“My mom’s coming here for a couple days first- she’s a journalist, you see, and she wanted to write a travel piece about Hamsterdam. Then we’re going to Storkholm for a couple days, then we’ll fly back to Duckburg. It’ll just be me and her for Christmas, though. Dad’s off with his new family.” Mark suddenly looked away from Gyro and down at the floor as he mentioned this. His feet clenched around the chair leg and he pulled a napkin out of the basket and began shredding it into thin strips.

“You ok?” 

Mark closed his eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath. “It’s just… Leah’s boys- my stepbrothers, I guess, are tough and athletic and they like racecars and… Well, they’re everything I failed at being. Dad always wanted a son like that.” 

Gyro ate some chips, unsure how to respond. They hadn’t really talked about their families before. Should he share a relatable anecdote? Give an expression of sympathy? Ask Mark for more details? But all he could manage was, “Your drink is empty- want me to refill it for you?” 

Mark nodded absently, fingers flying as he spun his ever-present Rubik’s cube around and around. Gyro picked up both soda cups and disappeared towards the fountain. 

When he returned, Mark took a sip, then looked up at Gyro in surprise. “Wait. Did you make this with one-half sparkling water, one-third Pep, and just a splash of Berry Cool?”

Gyro set down his own cup, feeling his stomach clench unpleasantly. He and Mark had gotten dinner here at least a dozen times already. He’d _seen_ Mark make the same mixture every single time. He _couldn’t_ have gotten the ratios wrong, could he? “I thought that’s what you usually drink?” 

“Yeah, but…” Mark sipped it again. “People usually think I’m weird for mixing them like that.”

Gyro exhaled slowly, heartbeat calming as his faith in his own observational skills was restored. “Who cares? It’s only soda.”

Though it was quite warm inside the cafe, Mark pulled his hoodie off the back of his chair and wrapped it around himself again. He pulled the zipper up and down a few times, not speaking. Gyro watched him, unsure of what any of this meant.

“Thank you for not thinking I’m weird.” Mark finally said.

“In case you haven’t noticed, people think I’m weird too. And they’ve got a much better reason than my soda preferences.” He gave a dry, sardonic, laugh.

“I guess you’re right.” A soft smile crossed Mark’s face. “I’m really glad we met, Gyro.”

“Of course you are.” Wait. No. That sounded _stupid._ There had to be a better response. It was too late to say something different, so Gyro shoved a few more chips into his mouth instead.

Mark’s phone chirruped an alarm, and he glanced down at it. “I should get back to the dorm and do a couple more hours of studying. I’ve got Programming Methodology AND Linear Algebra final exams back-to-back on Tuesday.”

“That sounds unpleasant. I still have to finish grading the Physics 107 tests for Dr. von Drake. You don’t happen to be in that class, do you?”

“No, I took physics at community college last year.”

“Probably for the best. He asks very tricky questions. I’ve run two red pens out of ink already. But,” Gyro stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder, “I’m sure you’ll do great on your tests.”

“Thanks. Pew pew pew!” Mark made finger-guns at him.

Gyro raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I dunno. I’m trying to make it my thing, I guess? Mom says I need to work on my personal brand. I wanted something that Pew pew?” Mark waved his fingers again. “You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that.” Gyro paused. Mark was still awkward and nervous sometimes, but generally, the parrot seemed so much more confident now than he had been when they first met. And in a way, Gyro thought, he himself felt more confident as well. This was a positive trend, he decided, and he ought to encourage it. “It suits you. Keep doing it.”

* * *

“Marcus, stop pacing. Every time your shadow moves, my lighting gets unbalanced.” 

Mark huffed quietly and sat down on a stone bench. He _really_ wanted to get into the Engineering lab before they had to leave for the airport, but his mother was insisting on “documenting every unique aspect of the campus architecture.” They had stopped again so that she could take pictures of the mosaic-tiled fountain in the center of the University Quad. His leg bounced impatiently, the motion jostling some of the snow that had accumulated on the leaves of a nearby shrub. He watched the bits of ice crystals flutter to the ground. On the far side of the quad, a tall, thin figure dressed in an old brown overcoat and lime-green scarf was walking towards the Engineering Building. 

“Gyro!” he called, waving a glove-covered hand and pulling down the hood on his jacket so he could see better.

The chicken waved, and walked over to them. He glanced at Mark’s mother, who was giving Mark an expectant look. Right. Introducing people. He knew how to do this one. “Gyro, this is my mother, Emma Glamour. Mom, this is my friend Gyro Gearloose!” . 

“Oh, so you have made a friend?” Emma lifted her sunglasses and looked Gyro up and down appraisingly, then gave one slow nod. “Good to hear you’ve been working on your social skills as well as your studies.” 

“We play chess every weekend and sometimes we get dinner afterwards,” Mark reported dutifully, feeling some of the tension in his shoulders release as his mother nodded again. He was pretty sure he’d gotten this right. And, he suddenly realized, even if he hadn’t, even if his mother had criticisms for him later, Gyro probably wouldn’t notice or care if Mark had broken some obscure social rule. Was that how real friendships were supposed to be like? 

“Well, I should call for the airport taxi, but I’ll let you say goodbye to your friend before we go.” Emma pulled a trendy flip-phone out of the silk-lined pocket of her pale pink coat, and retreated towards the shelter of the building before she removed her gloves to dial.

“She didn’t like me very much, did she?” Gyro watched the woman’s retreating form.

Mark stared at him. “Are you kidding? You got _The Nod_. First time meeting her, too! She loved you!” 

Gyro looked confused, but Mark set down his backpack and pulled it open. “Anyway, that’s not why I called you over here. I’m really glad I ran into you!” He pulled a brown paper bag, sealed shut with duct tape, out of his bag. “I would have left it in the grad student office, but this is better. Sorry I didn’t have actual wrapping paper. Don’t open it until Christmas, ok?” He shoved the parcel into Gyro’s hands.

Gyro stared at the gift, dumbfounded. “I… I didn’t get you anything.”

“It’s ok! I didn’t expect you to! I know you said you didn’t mind the peace and quiet so you can get your work done, but I thought… well, if you’re spending the holiday alone, you should at least have a gift.” 

“Thanks,” Gyro’s voice came out quietly, and he slipped the bag into his coat pocket. 

“Marcus, the taxi will be at the North Parking Lot in five minutes,” his mother’s voice rang out through the frosty air. 

“Right. I should go.” Mark hoisted his backpack over his shoulders again. He impulsively reached out and wrapped his arms around the chicken in a quick hug. “Have a good holiday, Gyro.” 

He was quite certain it was just the sharp cold wind that was making his face flush red.


	2. Holidays at Home

The cathedral bells rang out through the still night, echoing from the center of Hamsterdam, to the campus several blocks away. Gyro, still in the graduate student office of the Engineering Building, looked up from his work. He’d been quite productive the past few days on the empy campus- he’d finished grading the Physics 107 exams, had outlined both the Methods and Results chapters of his dissertation, and had nearly finished the edits on the final section of the literature review. The cathedral bells typically just chimed once, on the hour, but they seemed to be tolling out a song now. He looked at the clock- it was 11pm, on Christmas Eve. Must be a service or something. He should probably get home and get to bed, anyway. He stood and drained the last of the tea from his mug, then tipped the pile of soggy, spent teabags off the saucer and into the wastebasket across the room. 

His breath rose above him in a cloud as he stepped out into the freezing night. There was a bit of snow on the ground, but the skies were bright and clear, with a nearly-full moon waxing overhead. His shoes crunched over the ice as he passed the library on the edge of campus. He could see the spire of the Basilica lit up in the distance, and he thought he could hear strains of organ music now, matching with the chiming of the bells. Gyro had never been a religious man, but one didn’t have to be to appreciate the awesome beauty of an old European cathedral. He knew that Hamsterdam’s was not as old, or as large, or as decorated as some, but it was still an impressive landmark of the town. On a whim, he crossed the street and continued towards the source of the music. He wouldn’t go inside, he decided, not tonight. It would be full of people, and he didn’t want to intrude, or have to explain himself. It was only a few blocks, and Gyro walked quickly. No one was out at this hour, but several windows were still lit. He turned again and took the path along the river, mostly frozen at this time of year, but stunningly beautiful as every ice crystal reflected the moonlight, each at its own unique angle, causing the entire landscape to sparkle as Gyro walked along. The Basilica itself was on the opposite side of the canal, and he could see a processional of people, all wrapped up against the cold and each bearing a candle. He couldn’t quite hear what they were singing, but the strains he could catch were very pretty. There was a bus-stop bench just ahead of him, he perched upon it and watched the processional for a few minutes, soaking in the scene and letting the faint song sink into him. It had been a while since he had let himself pause like this, focusing on nothing but harmonious chords as they rang through the night, and felt a slight twinge of regret that he hadn’t practiced his viola in some time. It was almost certainly out of tune by now. The music faded, and Gyro arose from the bench as a new song began. He’d have to go tour the cathedral sometime. He wanted to see that organ- it was a wonder of music, but also, doubtless, a wonder of engineering. Maybe he’d go later this week, before the rest of the students returned to town. Though he supposed if he waited for the term, maybe he and Mark could do the tour together…

He paused, considering. He hadn’t really spent much time with Mark, outside of their weekly chess game and dinner, but there was something comforting about the parrot’s presence. The way he rambled about obscure subjects, his constant, fidgety need for motion- there was no denying the Mark Beaks was a bit odd, but, as Gyro reflected, so was he. He hadn’t really had a best friend before, not since he was seven years old and Reggie Bushroot had moved away from the small town where he had grown up. After that, just about anyone at school who seemed interested in spending time with him only ever really wanted him to explain the homework. At least he’d had Grandpappy Ratchett, back then. His hand automatically went to his coat pocket, to the little pearl-rimmed magnifying glass that the old man had made, that had been attached to Gyro’s keyring since the day he’d left for . His eyes flickered up towards the sky, and he muttered, “Merry Christmas, Grandpappy.” His words were almost inaudible, but a cloud of mist curled upward, catching a bit of the lamp-light as it went.

He felt a slight pang of loneliness climbed the stairs to his third-floor apartment. He had chosen to spend Christmas alone, he knew that. He preferred being alone than to being around other people, most of the time. But while he couldn't deny that it had been a productive choice, now that he was home alone, with no real plans for tomorrow except to get some more work done, he felt slightly regretful. Maybe he should make a pie or something… He moved towards the pantry to ascertain if he had enough flour, then stopped, noticing the duct-tape wrapped paper bag from Mark was still lying on the kitchen table, with “open on christmas” scrawled across it in untidy writing. It was past midnight, Christmas day now. He sat down and began to tear at the paper.

* * *

There was a knock on Mark’s half-open bedroom door and his mother appeared, with her thumb covering the mouthpiece of the telephone in her hand. 

“Marcus, would you like to talk to your father?”

Mark barely looked up from his computer game. “No thank you.”

“That wasn’t a question, sweetie.” Mark rolled his eyes but Emma silently proffered the phone and he reluctantly took it. 

“Hi, Dad.” he said flatly, as his mother mouthed “be polite” at him before she disappeared into the hallway again.

“Hey buddy!” a deep, cheery voice rang out from the receiver, and Mark lowered it a bit away from his face. “How’s college going? Keeping up with your studies?”

“Yes. I took Linear Algebra, Programming Methodology, and--”

“Yeah, yeah, smart guy stuff. You got a girlfriend yet?”

Mark felt his feet clench around the legs of his chair. “Dad, you know I’m gay.”

“It’s just a phase, buddy, try dating a girl sometime, you’ll see.”

Mark groaned. He really didn’t want to have this argument again. Best to change the subject. “How are Andrew and Kyle?”

“Oh, they’re doing great! We signed Kyle up for ice hockey this year, he’s a natural! I was telling Leah the other day, I told her, we really should have moved somewhere colder- the indoor rink is all right for a beginner but there’s nothing like the great outdoors for a game like that!”

“Mhmm.” Mark thought back to the one time his father had taken him ice skating. He had enjoyed it for about two minutes before falling hard on his backside. It hurt, and some bigger kids had laughed at him, but even then, at six years old, he knew he wasn’t allowed to cry. 

“And then Andrew’s just started basketball season- he made the varsity team already, as a freshman! Wouldn’t be surprised if Swanson High is headed for a state championship in the next year or two, my friend Adam is the coach, he’s really great with the kids- tough, but not  _ too  _ tough, y’know? I was talking to him the other day and...”

Mark’s hand reached for his computer mouse. He could probably get through a level or two of this puzzle game while his dad nattered on about hanging out with Adam after the game, or whatever. About how Andrew and Kyle were such perfect, sporty sons whose accomplishments actually meant something to their father. And then there was Mark. Straight-A student, Quiz Bowl finalist, Chess Club Captain- none of that had ever mattered to Coach David Beaks. 

“Anyway, we’re supposed to get to Leah’s parents’ place by six, and I’ve still got to shower and get changed. Can’t show up to Christmas dinner with the in-laws in sweatpants, y’know?”

“Right.” Mark looked back at the phone, wondering how long he had been zoning out. 

“But I’m not wearing that dumb tie your mother sent me- looks like something a girl woud wear. You won’t tell her I said that, right, buddy?”

“Sure.” 

“All right- I gotta go! You and your mom have a good Christmas, ok?”

“Merry Christmas.” The phone finally went quiet and Mark tossed it onto his bed. He grabbed one of his many Rubik’s cubes off his desk and spun it around a few times. Talking to his dad was always so exhausting. At least he’d been able to mostly tune it out this time. 

His computer chimed at him and he jumped, startled. A ChumChat window had popped up. Beneath the smiling yellow shark of the logo were the words

GYROSCOPE52 IS REQUESTING TO VIDEO CHAT. ACCEPT?

Mark couldn’t stop his face from breaking into a grin. He clicked, and moments later, a slightly pixelated chicken appeared on his screen. 

“Gyro! Hi!”

Gyro waved. His movements were choppy, but his voice was clear. “Hello Mark. Is this working ok?”

Mark’s eyebrows lowered a bit. “Yeah! But I told you not to open your present until Christmas day.”

“It’s after midnight here.” Gyro shrugged. “Technically Christmas morning.”

“Right. Time zones. Why are you still awake, though?”

“I’ve been keeping odd hours this week. No meetings, no classes, just work when I feel like it and sleep when I get tired. Plus, this is the furthest north I’ve ever been for the winter solstice and it’s hard to pay attention to the time when it gets dark so early.”

Gyro’s image blurred for a moment, then came into better focus. “Anyway, since it’s late afternoon in Duckberg, I thought I’d go ahead and thank you for the webcam.”

“Yeah, well, you mentioned that Dr. von Drake travels a lot and you can’t always keep up with your meetings over email, and I noticed your laptop was an older model without a built-in camera, so I thought I’d get you a USB one.”

“That’s very practical. Thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything…”

“Don’t worry about it. Really. I don’t need any stuff.” Mark glanced around the room, then lowered his voice a bit. “Honestly, I’m just really glad you called. I just got off the phone with my dad, and…” his voice trailed off and he grabbed a rubber band off his desk, pulling it taught again and again. 

Gyro watched him quietly for a moment. “I take it that didn’t go very well?”

The rubber band broke, snapping onto Mark’s thumb. He tossed it into the wastebasket and picked up one of his cubes instead. “Just the usual, with him. Sports, and… stuff.” 

Gyro started fidgeting with his glasses and looked away from the camera. “Do… do you want to talk about it?”

Mark stared down at the cube in his hands. He had somehow solved it while he wasn’t looking. He scrambled it again. It might feel good to vent, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to dump all of his feelings right now. Gyro had a lot of work to do, and Gyro was already spending Christmas alone. No reason for Mark to burden him with a bunch of personal problems. “No, it’s ok.” he finally said.

Gyro put his glasses back on and straightened up. “Ok. Well, other than your dad, how is your break going?”

“Not too bad! Storkholm was cool- Mom took  _ way  _ too many pictures, and dragged me through a bunch of clothing stores and stuff, but then on the last day we went to this AWESOME modern art museum. It has all these interactive displays- like there was this one that you could dance in front of and it would make music to follow you, and a lit-up wall that changed color based on real-time weather data, and this HUGE mosaic-tiled labyrinth on the floor of the room. Mom thought a lot of it was trite and tacky, though. I can never tell what she’ll like or dislike. I mean, you met her. She’s…” Mark chewed his lower lip, realizing at the last moment that the words in his head almost certainly too rude to say out loud.

“Intimidating?” Gyro suggested.

“Oh, that’s much more polite! I was going to say ‘a judgemental bitch.’” 

A crooked smile appeared on Gyro’s face. 

“It’s ok, you can laugh,” Mark prompted him, but Gyro composed himself. 

“No, please continue.”

“Well, I’ve been helping her with some work stuff. She’s been writing for this magazine for a while now, but a blog could be a lot more popular. And she could update much more often. Anyway, I’ve been doing the web design and helping her get that set up, and it got me thinking- I could totally design my own website.”

“Like a blog?”

“I dunno. It’d be cool if I could make a real job out of it. It’s pretty tough to monetize a blog. But if I came up with some sort of online product that other people would actually use…” He looked up at Gyro. “I’m not sure exactly what yet.”

“Well, the first rule of inventing is to find a need. You have to ask yourself ‘what could be useful, but doesn’t exist yet?’”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before. But how do I think about something that doesn’t exist?”

“I could help you,” Gyro offered. “I’ve got new ideas every day, just don’t usually have a plan to implement them.”

Emma’s voice came up the stairs, “Marcus, can you come downstairs and help in the kitchen? But change clothes first, you're not wearing that old hoodie for Christmas dinner.”

Mark sighed. “I guess I gotta go. I don’t know why she always wants to cook for the holidays. Neither of us are any good at it. Last year I burned the mashed potatoes.”

“How’d you manage that? Potatoes have a pretty high water content.”

“No idea. I turned around and suddenly they were on fire.”

Gyro laughed. “Well, good luck with that. We’ll talk ideas when you get back, ok?”


	3. Waddle

As much as he loved college, Mark thought, it was just barely worth being in Hamsterdam in the winter. Sure, Duckberg got a little bit of snow from time to time, but it was never  _ this  _ cold, for  _ this  _ many days in a row. Mark had always gotten cold easily, and was currently wearing what felt like all the warm clothes he owned. He was wearing  _ shoes, _ even, despite the fact that he generally hated them. He shuffled uncomfortably in his seat- now that he was on the bus, he was overheating fast. He hadn’t wanted to walk all the way from his dorm to Gyro’s apartment, not in this weather, but given how slowly the bus was going, he was beginning to wonder if he should have. He’d certainly had to stand there in the cold waiting for long enough, and of course, once the bus arrived, it was full of people. He was perched awkwardly on the edge of his seat, trying his hardest to not touch the elderly man in the seat next to him. Fortunately, his seat-mate kept focused on the newspaper in his hands, rather than attempting to engage Mark in conversation, one small blessing on an uncomfortable journey. 

The bus pulled up to the library stop, and Mark tightened his scarf as he stepped out into the cold. Fortunately, he just had to cross the street from here. He glanced at the old red-brick building in front of him. Gyro had said he was on the third floor, right? Mark usually remembered details like this, but for some reason, he felt unsure. He pulled off his gloves and dug into his coat’s outer pocket, looking for his phone.

“Where’d I’d put it?” he muttered, check his pants, hoodie, and shirt pocket before realizing he’d put the phone in his bag today. He should just get an extra phone, he thought. One for each pocket maybe. Then he wouldn’t have to stand here in the street looking like a fool. He checked the number on the building against the text message from Gyro, then tapped out “I’m coming up” before putting the phone back in his bag and locating the stairs. “Why would he live in a building without an elevator?” Mark grumbled to himself as he finally reached the third floor and knocked on door B. 

“Hi Gyro, can I wash my hands before we do anything?” he ignored the slight fluttering of his heart as the door opened and the messy-haired chicken appeared. 

“Oh. Um. Sure.” Gyro swept his bangs out of his face as he held the door open and pointed Mark towards the bathroom. 

“Sorry. Took the bus over. Lots of people, and I’m kind of a germophobe.” Mark sat down in the chair Gyro offered, looking around the apartment. It was a tiny studio, but the large window overlooking the street gave an illusion of openness, despite the small and cluttered space. Gyro picked up an empty cereal bowl from the table and dropped it into the sink, then scooped up a pile of papers and dumped them onto his bed. “Sorry for the mess. There’s not really space for a desk  _ and  _ a dining table in here, so this has to do for both.” He took the second chair across from Mark and opened his laptop. Mark pulled out his own laptop as well and booted it up. 

“So you said you had some ideas for a start-up of some sort?” Gyro got straight to the point, which Mark appreciated. No pointless small talk like so many other people insisted on putting him through before they could get anything done.

“Not really an idea, as such. I just feel like I should make one. Y’know, to make something of myself. Make a website that is better than all the other websites!”

“Ok, but what do you want it to do?” Gyro leaned over and peeked at Mark’s laptop screen, which showed a blank document in one tab and a space-themed pinball game in the other. 

“Dunno yet. I might just make it up as I go along.”

“You… you might want more of a plan there. When things go wrong, they can go  _ really  _ wrong, you know?”

Mark waved a flippant hand. “Eh, Dad always said you just have to fake it til you make it.”

“You can’t fake an invention!” Gyro stared at Mark incredulously. “Are you telling me you’ve asked me for help with developing an idea you haven’t even had yet?” 

Mark could feel his face getting hot. His hand automatically started turning the cube in his pocket “I… I thought you’d understand.” His voice cracked a bit as he looked down at his knees. He’d been asking for  _ help _ ! He thought he could trust Gyro not to judge him for it! So why did he look so angry? 

Gyro was quiet for a minute. He clicked a few things on his computer.

“Sorry if I made you mad.” Mark finally muttered.

Gyro looked up. “I’m not mad, just confused. I thought we were workshopping an idea of yours. We can certainly brainstorm instead, it’s just not what I had planned.”

“Yeah. I was hoping to brainstorm. Sorry I wasn’t clear about that.” He let the cube slip out of his fingers. “I don’t have a whole lot of ideas yet, though.”

“Luckily, I’ve got plenty for the both of us.” Gyro turned his laptop so that Mark could see the screen and opened a document called ‘Random Ideas’. “I don’t usually show this to other people,” he added, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

Mark’s eyes darted back and forth as he read through Gyro’s list. “Automatic manicures… floating furniture… popcorn fireworks… how do you come up with this stuff?” 

“I just think of it. Sometimes because I’m trying to solve a problem, other times I just think it would be interesting to try. I know plenty of these aren’t really plausible or useful, but I make it a habit to write all of them down. Never know when something will develop further when I actually sit down to think about it.”

“Huh. My ideas are all a lot less random. Like when I see something that exists but is kinda boring, or inefficient, then I think about how I could make it better.”

“That is a more methodical approach.” Gyro picked up a whiteboard marker from the table and chewed the end pensievely. Mark found his eyes drawn to the marker and Gyro’s mouth around it. He felt an odd, fluttering feeling in his stomach, but Gyro spoke again before Mark could think about why. 

“You said you helped your mom set up her blog, right?. What’s it about?”

Mark tore his eyes away from Gyro’s beak. “Well it’s for her magazine, which is about fashion trends and stuff like that. She’s always been a writer- she wrote in the lifestyle section of the newspaper before starting her own magazine. And she does some other fashion stuff, sometimes. She made a lot of my clothes, actually, especially when I was really little. I didn’t like the texture of a lot of the clothes from the store. It’s mostly all right now, though, as long as I cut the tags off.” 

“So you helped improve an existing piece of print media by creating a well-designed digital platform for its distribution.”

“Ooo, I like that way of putting it!” Mark broke into a grin. He’d just thought of the blog project as a chore, before, no different than helping his mom do this dishes. But Gyro was right. This was a step to being important and professional.

“And it also sounds like you have some ideas of how to start a business? I confess I’ve never really given much thought to the marketing and sales aspect of things.” 

“That’s ok- I can work on that part. I started taking an Economics class this term, might even add a minor, actually. Mom says it would be a good skill to have, anyway.” Gyro nodded, and Mark continued. “But you’re right. Marketing is later. Product design is first. So, this one book I’ve been reading, it’s by Steve Kittiwake, you know, the founder of Doorways Computing? Anyway, he mentioned this thing called the ‘why-how-what’ paradigm. So first I have to decide  _ why  _ I want to create a product.”

“Ok, why  _ do  _ you want to do that?”

“Because I want to make something of myself and not waste my life on mediocrity?”

Gyro sighed and rolled his eyes. “Why would someone  _ else _ need the thing you create? You have to identify a problem to solve-that’s the  _ why  _ of inventing. Like, my idea here, for levitating furniture?” Gyro pointed to his computer screen. “I thought of that while I was vacuuming one day, and couldn’t fit the vacuum underneath.”

“Why not just use a smaller vacuum?”

“Hmm. You’re right, that would be much easier to make. Ok if I add it to my list?” 

“By all means,” said Mark. “I’m certainly not going to be building hardware anytime soon.”

Gyro added ‘Flat vacuum cleaner’ to his document, then looked up. “We really just did the second step, see? After identifying a problem, you think about  _ how _ you could possibly solve it, then decide  _ what _ you are going to invent.”

“Right. Why, how, what.” Mark muttered, tapping on his fingers. “So why do I want to create some new website?” 

“Think of what you want to improve. What exists currently in the world that is inconvenient, inefficient, or just plain bothersome?”

Mark stared at Gyro, thinking. “Well, the bus was late when I tried to get over here. And it’s really cold out. But I’m not sure how I could solve that online. Both are pretty physical, real-space type problems..”

“We’re just in the idea phase now. We’ll decide the  _ how _ later. Right now, let’s just list everything we can think of. What else has irritated you today?” Gyro pulled a miniature whiteboard out from under the table and wrote “Late buses” and “cold weather”. 

“Um, ok. The line was really long at the Thai place I went to for lunch yesterday. The lecture-hall desk in my World Cultures class was really squeaky when I wrote on it. And my dad forwarded me some stupid political chain email this morning” Gyro wrote all of these on the whiteboard as well.

Gyro looked at the list. “Well, the chain email is definitely an internet problem. What else online could be improved?”

“Hmmm. Well, there’s that photo-storage site, Makin-Memories.com. It’s shutting down soon. I had to move a bunch of Mom’s stuff to an external hard drive. But lots of people are trying to move photos to MyFace now, but the resolution and the upload speeds suck. So…” Mark pulled the Rubik’s cube out of his pocket an twirled it a few times… “Maybe some new photo-sharing site would be cool? Sometime with a social aspect like MyFace, but more streamlined…” 

“You don’t have to stop on the first idea, you know.”

“But that may well be a business niche worth exploring.” Mark put his cube back in his pocket and started typing. After a few minutes, he stopped. “This is gonna be a pretty big project. No way we could finish today.”

“I didn’t expect to.” Gyro looked at the whiteboard again. “But you probably could create an email filter this afternoon. Gets this one off the list anyway.” He circled ‘annoying chain emails’. 

“That won’t make me rich and famous!” Mark pouted.

“Very little will. But, this is something that you are probably capable of making in a short period , and that is useful. Give it a try.”

“Fine.” Mark pulled his hood up over his head, as he often did when he wanted to concentrate. Gyro let him work for a while, and turned to his own stack of physics problem-sets to grade. 

After several minutes, Mark lowered his hood. “I think I’ve got the basic code lined up. Would you like to take a look before I run the debugger?” Gyro leaned over Mark’s shoulder, and Mark was suddenly painfully conscious of how close the chicken’s face was to his own. Usually he hated when other people got that close to him, but for some reason, this felt almost…  _ nice _ . And the fluttering feeling in his stomach was back…  _ oh no. _

Mark’s hands froze over the keyboard. This was a crush! He hadn’t really thought of it consciously before, but yep. He was definitely attracted to the man standing behind him. His compiler flashed an error message, and realized he had mis-typed the brackets in a command.  _ Should I tell him?  _ Mark fixed the brackets, then moved to the next line of code. He hadn’t ever dated before. Although he’d had a few crushes in high school, a lot of the guys who had caught his attention turned out to be straight, and so he’d learned to keep it quiet.  _ But I already know that Gyro’s gay _ . Satisfied with the debugging report, he started to prepare the code for installation into his email client. Just because he knew that Gyro liked men in general, didn’t mean Gyro was going to like him in particular. So he shouldn’t say anything, right?  _ He’ll probably think I’m just pathetic and emotional. _

“Looks good to me.” Gyro said, his hand almost brushing Mark’s shoulder as he stood up again.

Mark jumped. “What does?”

“The code?” Gyro raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m more of a hardware person, generally, but I at least don’t see any glaring errors.”

“Right.” Mark looked away from Gyro and started the process to install the extension into the email client. The code for Hawkmail was open-source, at least. If there was some sort of incompatibility, he could look it up. Gyro put the now-completed problem sets into a folder, then looked at something else on his laptop. He started idly chewing on his pen again, and Mark forced himself to look away. 

There were no errors, and the test messages that Gyro sent were sorted according t the algorithm. “Ok, we’ll have to see if that holds up to everything that gets sent my way, but I can change it if it doesn’t work. Thanks, Gyro!” 

Mark looked up and saw Gyro beaming at him. “You did a fantastic job. I knew you could do it.” 

There was a look in Gyro’s eyes he couldn’t quite place… could it be pride? Gyro reached out, as if offering a high-five, then withdrew his hand. “Wait. Sorry. I forgot you don’t like touching people.” 

“No, it’s ok! I can high-five with you. I mean… I’ll have to get on the bus again, so there’s germs anyway, and I don’t mind, really, and…” Mark lifted his hand, but they both mis-timed the movement and Mark somehow accidentally slapped Gyro’s elbow. They stared at each other in awkward silence for a few moments before Mark stood up and put his laptop into his bag, and put his coat and hat back on. 

“See you next week?” Gyro asked, looking relatively unperturbed.

Mark moved like lightning, bending down and rapidly embracing Gyro in a one-armed hug. “Thanksforthehelpseeyounextweekbye!” Then he bolted out the door before Gyro could see his face was turning red again. 

Having a crush was  _ hard. _

* * *

“The latest draft of your thesis vas very good, Mr. Gearloose- the third chapter in particular is vastly improved since last time.” Dr. von Drake pushed a folder across his desk towards Gyro. “I’ve given you a few more papers to read, though- I think if you follow the statistical methods in the Waddlemeyer et al, and apply them to your data, we can get a more robust conclusion.”

“Thank you, sir.” Gyro took the folder and tucked it into his bag. 

“Also, I’d recommend looking into a more robust graphing software for your figures- something with a customizable color palette, if you can. Publishers can be very picky about figures, you know. I’d recommend Freesware, the university library should be able give you an installation key.”

“Ok, I’ll look into it. Any other edits you’d recommend?”

“I marked a few syntax errors, but I do think you’re making very good progress, very good indeed!” Ludwig gave Gyro a warm smile. “I think you’re certainly on track to schedule your thesis defense around end of next semester, though we can wait a bit to schedule it with the department.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll try to work towards that deadline.” Gyro stood to go.

“Gyro-” Ludwig raised a hand to stop him, “Have you considered yet what you might want to do  _ after _ graduation?”

Gyro sat back down. He really  _ hadn’t  _ considered what he’d do after he had his doctorate. He knew he wanted to keep researching, inventing, but… honestly, he’d never been sure he’d even get this far. And if Dr. Akita’s infamy was to follow him everywhere he went…

Ludwig continued. “If you’re free for a week this summer, I may have an interview opportunity for you, that is, if you’re interested.”

* * *

“You mean THE Scrooge McDuck? The richest duck in the world, famous adventurer, head of McDuck Entireprises Scrooge McDuck?” 

“The very same.”

“And he’s  _ related _ to your advisor?”

“Yeah, his brother-in-law, apparently.”

“And you’ve got a job interview with him?” Mark set down two containers of take-out curry on Gyro’s table and fished some silverware out of a drawer. 

“Yeah. Phone interview tomorrow, and if it goes well, he’ll fly me to Duckburg at the beginning of summer for the in-person interview, and if THAT goes well, a tour of the lab facility.” Gyro opened his curry, then tore off a chunk of naan bread and dipped it in. 

Mark’s eyes went wide. “Ooooo I read about the lab! It’s on the bottom floor of his Money Bin- they say he keeps all his cash on one side of the tower, and the offices on the other- I’m not sure if that’s true though, it always seemed kinda hyperbolic. Anyway, the research and development lab is way down in the basement, but since the Bin is out on the pier, it’s got all these windows that look out under the bay!”

“How do you know all that?”

Mark shrugged. “If I’m going to be a successful business owner, might as well model myself after the best, right?”

“The Waddle Project can do better than a giant shiny tower. It’s tacky and unnecessary.” Gyro still wasn’t entirely fond of the name Mark had picked out for his new social photo-sharing website, but he didn’t really have any other ideas, so he hadn’t argued, and Waddle had stuck. 

“But what if I  _ want _ a giant shiny tower?” Mark balanced his fork on its tines and looked at it with a grin, as if he was picturing a great silvery office building. Gyro looked back down at his curry. Sometimes, Mark’s facial expressions reminded him far too much of 2-BO. Yes, of course, the droid had been modelled after a gray parrot, but somehow, on occasion, there was more to the resemblance. When Mark got excited, his eyes always seemed to light up in the same way. It was uncanny. Mark was a fully alive, organic, person, or at least Gyro was pretty sure of that fact. So why should he look and act so much like the artificial intelligence? Maybe he was just reading too much into things. It  _ had  _ to be a coincidence. 

Gyro didn’t always feel like he was in control of his own emotions. Right now, they certainly seemed irritatingly illogical. 2-BO had gone rogue, become evil, and caused a lot of problems. So why, if Mark reminded Gyro of 2-BO, did Gyro find it easier to trust Mark than nearly anyone else he knew? He didn’t trust easily. His “friends” always seemed to want something from him, in the end. Of course, Mark did ask for his advice a lot. But Mark also knew things that Gyro didn’t. They actually managed to work as a real team, most of the time. Mark really was Gyro’s friend. Almost certainly. So why did Gyro still feel so unsure?

“There’s also some rumours that he used to work for some sort of ultra-secret spy agency, and has already saved the word from aliens multiple times! I’m not sure I believe the aliens bit, but there’s definitely some interesting theories about spy stuff, especially around the 1960s… Sorry. I started rambling again”

Gyro realized he had missed several minutes of Mark’s monologue of Scrooge McDuck facts. “You know a lot about him, it seems. I know we were planning to work on the network-building algorithm for the Waddle project today, but, if I have to talk to this guy tomorrow… I know very little about the business world...” he paused and pushed his bangs out of his face. Mark seemed to anticipate his question.

“Of course! Let’s get you prepared for that interview!”


	4. Gyro's Dissertation

“Hey there Department big-shot, how’re you feeling?” Mark knocked on the half-open door to Gyro’s office. Gyro was sitting frozen at his desk, staring emptily at the stack of notecards in front of him. 

“Ooooh, you look great, you should wear bow-ties more often! It really suits you! Uh, Gyro?” Mark tapped his shoulder and Gyro jumped.

“I didn’t see you come in.” He started shuffling through his notecards, muttering to himself, and avoiding Mark’s gaze.

“Hey.” Mark put a hand on Gyro’s arm, looking at him with round, earnest eyes. “You got this. You’ve been working on this project for years. All the professors want you to succeed, remember that.”

Gyro gave a wordless grunt, and Mark watched him for a bit. 

“What’s the square root of 289?” Mark asked suddenly.

Gyro’s reply was automatic. “17.”

“How about 841?”

“29.”

“And 10,201?”

“101.” Gyro finally looked up at Mark, a slightly accusatory look on his face. “How’d you know about the square root thing?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “I may not be as observant as you are, Gyro, but I’m not blind. You do it to ground yourself when you’re agitated. Same thing with me and my cube. And since you seemed to be nervous, I thought I’d help you focus. 

“ _Seemed_ to be nervous? I’m defending my thesis today! This is a huge, important step in my career! It could make or break me!”

“You’ve already got a job offer, though.”

“And he’s _here!_ What if I mess up and Mr. McDuck sees, and then he rescinds the offer? What if he sees right through me? What if…?”

“He’ll see that you’re a brilliant scientist and a hard worker.”

“Yeah, but I’m not great with public speaking.” Gyro pushed a hand through his hair.

“We’ve practiced the actual speech a bunch of times now. Pretend it’s another practice round if you have to. Just don’t try to picture the professors in their underwear, I know they say it can help make public speaking easier, but it never actually works.”

Gyro winced. “Now that you’ve said it, I’m afraid I accidentally will. Not a mental image I needed.”

“Well, I could always come sit in the audience in _my_ underwear, if you think it would help.”

Gyro actually laughed this time. “Absolutely not necessary. Anyway, seminar starts in 15 minutes. You might want to go get a good seat. You could even take one of the spots up front, since my family couldn’t make it- did I tell you my sister’s baby hatched six weeks early? Just a couple of days ago. So she and my parents had to go to the hospital, I haven’t checked how the little guy is doing yet today. Though yesterday they said his breathing was stablized, but he still hasn’t eaten yet. I’m not sure i want to know until after my presentation--”

“Ah. Well. About that.” Mark grinned and opened his laptop, turning it so that Gyro could see the screen. “Surprise!” he said, and several other voices echoed “surprise!” from the computer’s speaker. 

Gyro gasped. The faces of his mother, father, and sister were beaming out at him. “Congratulations, Almost-Doctor Gearloose!” his mother said.

“Wait. You’re here? Is the baby ok?”

“We got out of the NICU last night. I still have to monitor his oxygen levels, and we’ll probably have to tube-feed for a week or two, but he’s definitely past the worst of it.” Whitney Gearloose turned a bit and tugged at the blanket that was slung across her chest, allowing Gyro to catch a glimpse of a tiny, down-covered head. “We’re calling him Newton, by the way.”

“Hi Newton,” Gyro crooned at the screen. “That’s a great name. I can’t wait to meet him in a couple weeks.” Gyro peered at the screen, recognizing the old green sofa of his childhood home. “Wait. The internet at your place is always so spotty- how can you be on a video call?” 

“That would be my doing,” said Mark, with a cheeky smile.

“Your friend there helped me connect the internet to the cable TV. So we should be able to see and hear your presentation just fine.” Gyro’s father nodded vaguely in Mark’s direction.

“Cable internet? That’s brilliant! How’d you do it?”

Mark smirked and winked. “I’ll tell you after your presentation. Now go show them how great you are!”

* * *

“Nicely done, _Doctor_ Gearloose.” 

“Congratulation, _Doctor_ Gearloose.”

“Great presentation, _Doctor_ Gearloose.”

He had done it. The words of his classmates and professors rang through his head as Gyro, _doctor_ Gyro, feeling light-headed, made his way through the crowded lecture hall. 

“Excellent job, laddie!” his new boss, Scrooge McDuck was suddenly in front of him, offering a handshake. 

“Thank you, sir! I was surprised to hear you were coming all this way!” Gyro shook the duck’s extended hand, then nervously straightened his bow tie. 

“Well, I had some business to attend to, I’ve got a small subsidiary fishing company with a factory on the river here. But also, I came as a favor to an old friend.”

Gyro looked perplexed. “What do you mean, sir?”

The older duck smiled at him softly. “Your grandfather would have been very proud. I was sorry to hear when he passed.”

“You… you knew Ratchet?” Gyro stared at Scrooge. He was pretty sure this hadn’t come up in conversation last month when he was in Duckberg for the interview. 

“Of course I did! Why do ye think I hired you so quickly? His innovative spirit would have been exactly what my company needed, and you inherited that in spades!”

Gyro slipped his hand into his pocket and touched Ratchet’s magnifying lens, as Scrooge disappeared into the crowd. It really was crowded in here, almost overwhelmingly so now that everyone had gotten up out of their seats. Gyro slipped out of the lecture hall and into the quiet corridor. He leaned against the wall, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. He had passed. Despite everything that had happened during his first attempt in Tokyolk, he had passed. He had a PhD, now, more or less. Sure, there were a few more steps to finish preparing his thesis for publication, but then he’d be done with school, and off to McDuck Enterprises, hopefully for a lifetime of inventions and discoveries. 

“Figured you’d sneak out here.”

He opened his eyes, and there was Mark, beaming at him, still holding his laptop open in one hand. The parrot pulled Gyro into a congratulatory hug with his other arm. 

“It’s a bit loud in there now.” Gyro shrugged. 

“Yeah, I know. I figured you might want to chat with your family some more though? I’m going to go back in and chat for a bit, but I’ll find you in your office later?”

“Thanks, Mark.” Gyro took the laptop and crossed the hallway to the currently-deserted office and plugged in the laptop. His sister was still there, holding the still-sleeping baby Newton. 

“Mom and Dad went to bed already, it’s pretty late here. But they asked me to pass their congratulations on to you.”

“Thanks. Did you enjoy the presentation?” Gyro leaned back in his chair, finally feeling like he could relax. He hadn’t felt this way in… years, probably. 

“Didn’t understand a word of it. Your boyfriend seems nice, though.” Whitney commented as soon as Gyro closed the door. 

He sat up straight again, nearly knocking the laptop off the table. “What boyfriend?”

“Umm, Mark? The guy who was just here?”

“What? We’re- we’re not dating!”

Whitney gave a knowing smile as she shifted baby Newton from one arm to the other. “Not _yet,_ you aren’t. But he definitely likes you.”

“How could you possibly know that? You talked to him through a webcam for all of ten minutes!”

Whitney shook her head at him. “I know you’re not great at reading people, Gyro, but think about it. You’ve been spending time with this guy pretty much every weekend for over a year. He knew exactly how to help calm your nerves right before the presentation. And he remotely hacked into Dad’s TV just so that we could be here for your thesis presentation. Only one logical explanation, don’t you think?”

“I think the maternal hormones are going to your head.” Despite his vocal denial, Gyro’s head was spinning. Had he been dating Mark without realizing it? Was it _possible_ to date someone without realizing it? Did he even _want_ to date anyone?

Yes, he realized, the instant he even asked the question. Mark was his best friend, and as such, there was definitely potential on which to build a solid romantic relationship. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t considered the possibility before. Then again, Gyro would be leaving Hamsterdam in a few weeks, while Mark still had another year. Maybe he did have feelings for Mark, but this was not the time to confess it. Perhaps later, after Mark graduated, if they found themselves living in the same city again, perhaps then, he would say something. Not now. That wouldn’t be good for either of them. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” he said again. And that much was true. 

“Give it time,” Whitney’s smile was irritatingly knowing, and Gyro rolled his eyes. She might claim to understand _people_ better than Gyro did, but he was smarter at just about everything else, and he had a newly-minted doctorate to prove it.

“All right Gyro, ready to get some food?” Mark had come back into the office, and Gyro could feel his face flushing. He turned away so that Mark couldn’t see, and hoped the camera’s resolution was bad enough that Whitney wouldn't see either. 

“Trust me on this one. I’ll see you in a few weeks.” Whitney said with a wink, then logged off before Gyro could argue. 


	5. Separate Paths

“You should definitely go with the higher-grade transistors, like I used in the prototype. Otherwise what you’re selling will be no better than the dial-up internet that folks already have.” Gyro was in Mark’s dorm, perched on the bed, laptop balanced precariously on his knees,

“Good transistors.” Mark muttered as he typed into his desktop computer. “How about the wire connectors? One option is a lot more expensive than the other.”

“Let me see? Ah, it’s in the outer lining. The cheaper option won’t impact the electrical properties, though it will speed up the wear and tear process, so you’ll have to replace it more often.”

“Oh, yeah, and then I’d have to balance out staff time to go replacing it. But that could just go into the price of the product, right?”

“So could using the higher-quality lining for the connectors. People will pay for quality, right?”

“You’re wish that, but people really pay for charisma and flair. Pew pew pew!” Mark pushed his chair back from the desk and spun around a few times.

“Charisma and flair? Instead of quality?” Gyro raised an eyebrow.

“You’ve said before that you don’t know or care about the advertising side of things. Leave this one to me.” Mark rolled his chair back to his desk, made a few notes, then turned to Gyro again. “You’re so good at the actual prototyping and product design though. Do you _really_ have to go and work for McDuck?”

“Of course I do. I’m not going to stay in school now that my dissertation’s published.” It had been a few days since the final deadline, and Gyro’s apartment, where they usually worked was neatly packed into boxes, so they’d opted to have one last workshopping session in Mark’s dorm room before Gyro departed.

“But… you could stay with me and be a co-founder of Waddle?”

Gyro chuckled. “Waddle has been a great side project, but I can’t afford to gamble my future on the success of a startup.”

Mark’s face fell. “Gamble? Do you not believe we can make it?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe in you, Mark, or in the Waddle project. Especially now that we’ve got a unique product and a working prototype. Cable-connected internet is going to be helpful for a lot of people. Definitely better than a photo-sharing website.”

“I might make the photo-sharing app anyway,” Mark shrugged. “Better to generate some buzz that way.”

“Sure. Buzz. The thing is, Mr. McDuck is offering a steady salary, and benefits, and a defined career path. And in case you’ve forgotten, I’ve already screwed up my life once. I can’t do something like that again.”

“We’re not going to accidentally blow up a city!”

“What if it doesn’t work out? McDuck Industries is a big company. There’s so many resources for me there- I can invent things, and even if a few of them fail, I’ll have the ability to try again. Startups are inherently risky! Even with both of our skills, it still takes more luck than I’ll ever have!”

“But I don’t know that I can do all this without your help!”

Gyro reached over and squeezed Mark’s shoulder. “Of course you can. We’ve got a solid start. You have everything you need to make Waddle a reality. And- it’s not like we can’t still talk, sometimes. I’m just not dedicating my life to the project.”

Mark didn’t speak but stared down at the floor, and tugged a loose string out of the sleeve of his hoodie. Gyro watched him for a few minutes, but Mark stayed quiet.

“There’s something else wrong, isn’t there?” Gyro finally asked. 

Mark closed his eyes and pulled his hood over his head. “No.” His voice was barely audible.

Gyro stared at him, then finally stood up. “You need some time to yourself?” He headed towards the door and started putting on his shoes.

“Gyro, stop.” Mark’s voice trembled as he lowered his hood again. “Fine. You want to know the real reason I want you to stay here and work with me on the Waddle project?”

“I always assumed it was my intellect?”

“You wish.” But there was no trace of the usual sarcasm in Mark’s tone. He stood up and caught Gyro by the hand, threading their fingers together “It’s because I’ll miss you if you leave!” 

“Buh- dee- who- You… what?” Gyro’s stared down at their intertwined fingers, as if he’d never seen a hand before. His sister’s words from the previous week suddenly echoed in his head- _he definitely likes you._ That couldn’t be right. He’d allowed himself to hope, for a day or two, but ultimately concluded that Whitney must have been wrong. How could anyone possibly be romantically interested in him? Hardly anyone even wanted to be his _friend_! 

“You’re a genius, Gyro, but you’re also kind of an idiot. Can you not see I’ve been in love with you for like, a year?”

Gyro let out an odd, wordless squeaking sound and sat back down on the bed. Ok, so maybe Whitney _had_ been right. But this still didn’t make sense. Gyro was awkward. Abrasive. Condescending. He knew these things about himself. No one _actually_ enjoyed spending time with him. They put up with him, sometimes, if he was useful. Perhaps that was it after all. Mark just found him useful.

“I’m not sure I believe you.” he finally said. 

“Why not?”

“You’re smarter than that. You should know that I’m not actually attractive.” 

Mark perched next to him, tentatively resting a hand on Gyro’s knee. Gyro looked at Mark’s hand for a few minutes. There had to be a catch here. But maybe, just maybe, his luck could be turning? He reached out and held Mark’s hand in his own. 

“Why, though?”

“I just do.” 

And then Mark leaned over and kissed him. Gyro tensed briefly, then sank into it, wrapping his arms around Mark’s waist, parting his beak ever so slightly to allow the other’s tongue to gently probe his own. They stayed there for a long time, before Gyro finally pulled back and took a deep breath. 

“That was… emotion-inducing.”

“Good emotions? Or bad ones?” Mark pulled back a bit. His eyebrows, always unruly, seemed to have gotten thicker. Gyro wasn’t sure why he noticed.

“Good, I think. Just unexpected.” Gyro scooted closer again. “Perhaps we should try again, just to be sure?”

Mark leaned in close and enthusiastically pulled Gyro down onto the bed. The doubt from Gyro’s mind slowly cleared as they lay there in a tangle of limbs, exploring the new sensations of each other’s mouths. Yes, Gyro was leaving Hamsterdam in a few days, but they could worry about that _then._ For now? All he wanted was this.

After several minutes, Mark’s hand slipped up the back of Gyro’s shirt and began slowly playing through the feathers there. Gyro pulled back again.

“What… what are you doing?” Gyro was unable to speak above a strained whisper.

“Exploring?” Mark tried to stop Gyro’s mouth with his own, but Gyro turned his head away.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“You’re a scientist.” Mark gently clasped Gyro’s hand in his own and pulled it towards his waistband. “Don’t you want to... experiment?”

“Wait! You mean… experiment like-- like _sex_?” Gyro pulled back again. “Because I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Because you’re not interested?” Mark asked, and Gyro’s heart throbbed at the longing in his eyes. 

“No, I am interested! Very much so! But… well… I never told you- I’m trans.”

Mark let go of Gyro and sat up, surprised. “Really?”

Gyro slumped down on the pillows, staring at the ceiling. “Yeah. Since I was a little kid. I don’t generally bring it up to anyone because it’s not relevant. Except… it kind of is, now. If you’re actually trying to get in my pants.” He smiled shyly. 

“Wow. I… well... I wasn’t expecting that. Does anyone else know?”

“Pretty much just my parents and sister at this point. As I said, not usually relevant.” 

Mark leaned his back to the wall and stared at the ceiling, thoughtfully. “I guess this doesn’t actually change anything. You’re still the same person, right?”

“Of course! I only mentioned it because you should know that I don’t have the equipment you’re expecting.”

“Well, we’re both birds. It’s not like I was hoping for a whopping huge mammal dick.”

“I…I suppose I could purchase a facsimile of a mammalian phallus, if that’s what you wanted.”

“No, Gyro. I think- I think I want you as you are. Even if it’s not what I imagined. Besides, I’m almost twenty-one! It’s about time I lost my virginity.”

“I’m 24, and it doesn’t bother me.”

“Seriously?” Mark looked down at Gyro. “Far as I can tell, everyone at this school has gotten some action except for me.”

“Not everyone.”

“But… didn’t you...when you were in Tokyolk? Or even back in high school?” 

“I had more important things to do than date. It’s not like there’s a deadline for these things.” 

“Feels like there is.” Mark swung his legs out over the side of the bed and kicked his feet through the air. “My parents were 23 when they got married. And I was born the next year. I feel like I’m so behind.” 

Gyro sat up and carefully wrapped an arm around Mark’s shoulders. “You’re always saying you don’t want to be like your parents.

“I know. But- I want to be _successful!_ ” 

“You will be! You’ve got a lot of great ideas for Waddle. And you’ve got the motivation, the drive, and the charisma to make them reality.” 

Mark sniffed. “Why are you still encouraging me when you don’t want to work with me?”

Gyro placed both hands on Mark’s shoulders and stared at him sternly. “It’s not about not wanting to work with you. It’s just… this project isn’t my path. But I know it’s yours. And in case you hadn’t noticed, I care about you and want you to be happy.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” 

They kissed again, softly and slowly, pulling their bodies close as they explored each other’s mouths. After a few minutes, Gyro’s hand slid down, and came to rest over Mark’s belt buckle.

“Now, I believe you said there was an experiment you wanted to try?” 

* * *

Mark watched the rivulets of water glide down his body, drops slipping between the feathers where Gyro’s fingers had explored some minutes before. He wasn’t sure how he felt. Wasn’t sure how he was _supposed_ to feel. The sex had been pleasant, certainly, despite his own awkward fumbling. But it hadn’t really been life-changing either. Wasn’t losing your virginity supposed to make you a man, and no longer a boy? Why didn’t he feel any different?

He reached for a bar of soap and absently rubbed it over his body. Maybe he had done it incorrectly? Gyro had seemed to enjoy the experience, and Mark had too. But he still felt like something was missing. _Can’t even be a proper pansy, can you?_ A voice that sounded just like his father’s rang out in his head. _Can’t even do it with a real man._ Mark shook his head. That didn’t matter, did it? Mark had had feelings for Gyro for ages! Why should it matter what his father would say? It’s not like Mark was going to tell him any of this! 

“Fuck you, dad,” he muttered out loud, though he still couldn’t help feeling a little ashamed. He just wasn’t sure why. He put the soap back on the shelf and doused his head under the faucet. Maybe you weren’t supposed to run to the shower right after? Yes, that must have been his mistake. But they’d gotten so sweaty! He couldn’t just stay there on his sheet like that! He turned off the faucet and grabbed his towel. Gyro would probably want a shower too, if he was still there with Mark’s sweat all over him. Not to mention other fluids… ugh. Why was sex so messy? And why did people seem to both enjoy it and simultaneously curse its existence? Yeah, it felt nice, but Mark was starting to wonder if the whole thing was over-hyped. 

He finished drying himself off and wrapped the towel around his waist. Gyro was still sitting on Mark’s bed, staring pensively at the ceiling. “Shower’s free, if you want it.” Mark muttered, and Gyro sat up, startled, as if he hadn’t noticed Mark coming back into the room. 

“Yeah, I probably should.” Gyro stood up, slowly, then stopped and grinned at Mark. “Thanks.” He leaned in and softly kissed Mark on the cheek before he disappeared into the bathroom. 

Mark sat down on the bed, hand tracing the spot where Gyro had just kissed him. Did this mean they were boyfriends now?

 _He doesn’t want to work with you, though,_ a nasty voice in Mark’s head said. This one sounded slightly like his mother. He sighed. Would they still be friends when Gyro moved back to Duckberg? Could they? Everyone always said long-distance romance never worked, so… dating was probably out of the question. 

His gaze fell onto Gyro’s laptop, still sitting open on Mark’s desk. When Gyro went to work for Scrooge McDuck, all his ideas would too, Mark realized. There’d be no way Mark could develop them into something profitable, and no way Gyro could help guide Mark’s plans into something practical. They would have been such a good team! _You don’t need a man to be successful._ That one was definitely his mother’s words- he’d heard her say that often enough, especially just after the divorce.

He had to get this business to work, he just _had_ to! There was finance and capital and team management and all the things he’d learned in his classes, but Gyro had been right all along. First he needed a solid product _._ Something that could prove he was worth investing in, worth _believing_ in. 

“ _You’ve got to know how to sell yourself, Marcus_ ,” his mother’s continued to echo in his head. “ _A simple good idea isn’t enough! You’ve got to prove to everyone else why they should buy into it_.”

Gyro would never make a salesman. Maybe that’s why the startup business wasn’t right for him. But still, without his ideas and feedback, what would Mark have _to_ pitch? 

“Gyro’s ideas…” he muttered, looking at the laptop. He stood up from the bed and pulled a flash drive out of his desk drawer, staring at it.

“No. What am I doing?” Mark threw the flash drive down in disgust. He couldn’t just _steal_ files off of Gyro’s computer! He’d just have to remember them, in his head.

 _The business world is competitive, dear. You’ve got to be willing to cut some corners. And some throats, if you have to._

“I won’t do that, Mom!” he muttered angrily, feeling foolish as he did so. 

_You’d have what it takes to be successful, if you actually tried,_ Mom’s voice continued. Dad’s voice joined in too, punctuating her sentences with some of his favorite derogatory and homophobic terms.

“Shut up, both of you!” Mark’s voice was louder now. “Stupid parents in my head! You aren’t even really here! Why are we having this argument?”

He jammed the flash drive into the USB port on Gyro’s computer. He needed them to shut up, needed to prove that he could do what was necessary, needed to be successful… 

He scrolled through the files on Gyro’s hard drive. He wasn’t necessarily going to _use_ these, he reasoned. He just wanted to _have_ them. As backup. Dang, Gyro had a lot of blueprints. That one was the prototype for the cable internet device- no need to copy it again. A plant-powered battery- definitely useful. Gold-powered rocket- interesting, but expensive. A lightbulb with legs- what was the point of that? Robotic house-cleaner- Now that could be great, given the right marketing. A time-travel device- was that actually possible?

Mark copied the useful-looking files onto his flash drive. A little sand timer blinked on the screen as the files transferred. _Just insurance,_ he reminded himself, as he ejected the memory stick and slipped it into his pocket.

“I should have known.” A voice spoke out behind him. 

* * *

Gyro hadn’t felt this confident in _years._ Usually, his mind was a constant buzz of self-criticism, guilt, and fear. Even when he wasn’t consciously thinking of it, it was there. Now, he hummed a cheery little tune to himself as he ran shampoo through his hair. Mark _liked_ him. Mark liked _him_ ! _Mark_ liked him!

He said it over and over, hardly believing his good fortune. They were best friends. They worked well together, and cared about each other. And their feelings were mutual! Yes, it was still another year before Mark graduated, but that would be all right. They had webcams. And with the salary Scrooge was offering, Gyro could probably even afford a plane ticket to visit Hamsterdam again at some point next year. They'd make it work. 

He towelled off and put his clothes back on. His shirt had picked up a bit of Mark’s scent. He breathed deeply and his body shuddered involuntarily. If he’d known physical intimacy could make him feel this light and happy, he’d have tried it years ago! He felt like he could face anything, like nothing in the world could spoil his good mood.

Nothing, that is, except for the sight of Mark hunched over Gyro’s laptop, surreptitiously pocketing a flash drive. 

“I should have known.”

Mark froze for a moment, then slowly turned around. “Gyro! I can explain!”

“Don’t bother.” Gyro reached around Mark and closed his laptop, then dug under the bed for his bag. Of course Mark had just been using him this whole time. Of course it had been too good to be true. No one was really his friend. No one was really worth trusting.

“Gyro, please, I…” Mark put a hand on his shoulder, but he harshly brushed it off. 

“You pretended to like me so that I’d do all the work. Doubtless planning to give yourself credit if we succeeded.”

“No, I just--”

“Of course!” Gyro shouted suddenly, smacking himself in the forehead, knocking his glasses askew. “You wanted me to keep working with you so that I would take the blame if Waddle failed!”

“What? Why would I…?”

“Just a potential scapegoat, that’s all I’ve been to you! That’s all I am to anyone!” Mark’s dorm room suddenly felt small, the pale walls closing in on him. He squeezed his eyes shut, and suddenly the dormitory vanished, and all he could see was the high-security facility in Tokyolk. Echoes of Inspector Tezuka’s voice- _he’s clearly an accomplice!_ The cold concrete floor, the harsh fluorescent light, the beeping of the electronic door locks. He clenched his hands, trying to ground himself. He’d only been there a few days. They’d never found Dr. Akita, but they’d found enough evidence to let Gyro go. He couldn’t believe he’d nearly put himself in that position again. He was so _stupid,_ so _naive…_

“What’s the square root of 1296?”

Gyro opened his eyes, to see Mark staring at him. The parrot’s hands were shoved deep in his pockets, but his eyes were wide, and softly concerned. 

“What?”

“You’re panicking. Try to focus. What is the square root of 1296?” Mark said again, more quietly this time.

“Thirty-six.” said Gyro.

“How about 4225?”

“Sixty-five.” Gyro did a few more square roots in his head, forcing himself to steady his breathing, focusing on nothing but numbers. He wasn’t in Tokyolk anymore. He wasn’t going to jail again. He slung his bag over his shoulder and slipped on his shoes. 

“I can’t do this.” his voice cracked as his hand hovered over the doorknob, and he cursed himself for having _feelings_ at a time like this. 

“Gyro?” Mark’s voice was also trembling. The parrot was clearly on the verge of tears. 

Gyro couldn’t look at him. But he couldn’t move to leave either. “I’m sorry. We don’t belong on the same path.” There was silence for a few long moments, Mark watching Gyro, who was staring resolutely at the door, willing himself to go through it, wondering why it was so hard. 

“Good luck.” They both said it at the exact same time, both speaking just barely above a whisper. 

Then Gyro finally turned the doorknob and headed out into the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks all for reading, that's the end of this particular fic.  
> However, there will eventually be some more stuff in this timeline, as I actually ended up writing this story while I was working on another one, set around the time of the show canon, in which Mark and Gyro are trying to figure out how to co-parent Boyd.  
> And as I was working on it, I said "wouldn't it add DRAMA if they'd dated in college and it ended badly?" So here we are.
> 
> Hope you liked it, kudos and comments are appreciated but not required. :)


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